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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721036">Enhjørningen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorteparaplyer/pseuds/sorteparaplyer'>sorteparaplyer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinkmeme Fills [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Child Abuse, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Shaming of gender expression, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:26:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorteparaplyer/pseuds/sorteparaplyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus is attached to his unicorn plushie—way more attached than is normal for a fifteen year old. But it doesn't matter if his family thinks it's weird or childish; he needs the comfort it brings him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinkmeme Fills [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1450708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>279</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Enhjørningen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a fill for an <a href="https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/">umbrellakink</a> prompt made <a href="https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=731164#cmt731164">here</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Klaus’ hands shake as he switches on his hot plate. </p><p>The sting of Reginald’s palm across his cheek still feels hot and sharp. He probably has a red handprint covering the entire left side of his face. Not that it really matters if he does. It’ll fade into a bruise or disappear entirely soon enough. It doesn't matter which. </p><p>He used to hide the marks left by Reginald’s anger, but there’s no point to it anymore—everyone knows by now that Dad hits him. And everyone knows it’s his own damn fault every time. Reginald’s never hit any of the others. Klaus figures it’s because they’re actually worth something. </p><p>His siblings tell him it’s because he provokes Reginald. Not that he asked them. But if that’s true then he seems to provoke Reginald just by breathing, just by being. Maybe it <em>is</em> true. He’s begun to suspect there’s something inherently wrong about him. Something bad. </p><p>
  <em>”You are almost an adult, Number Four. A child wearing his mother’s shoes is merely unsightly. A young man done up in his sister’s makeup is utterly shameful. It’s time you left this nonsense behind you.”</em>
</p><p>Klaus wishes he could push back more, challenge Reginald and stand up for himself. But every time it happens he finds himself paralyzed with fear, unable to even defend himself.</p><p>
  <em>”Ridiculous child. I would not have adopted you had I known you would cling to such immaturities.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Drug-addled waste.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Filthy whore.”</em>
</p><p><em>“For all the good you’ve done me, Number Four, I should have left you in that German orphanage.” </em> </p><p>Klaus sinks down onto the bed. He twists his fingers together so he can pretend his hands aren’t still shaking. He watches as the coils on the hot plate slowly begin to glow red. </p><p>He reaches under his pillow and pulls out his unicorn plushie, strokes its soft white fur as he absently watches the kettle. </p><p>If he's being honest with himself it still hurts that no one cares. He used to try to reach out, albeit in his own special way, but he's given up on that now. It only ever made his siblings mad, reinforced the image they held of him as an attention seeker. </p><p>It was Klaus’ own fault. The less they listened the more nonsensical his appeals became until eventually they wrote him off entirely. He recognized then that he had lost his chance. His siblings would never be his confidants. And they would never protect him from Dad.</p><p>He holds the unicorn's little body close against his chest, takes a deep steadying breath in and out. “Yawn,” he croaks. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”</p><p>Klaus hates that he’s afraid of Reginald. He wishes he could just despise the man like Diego or even idolize him like Luther. Then maybe he’d be brave enough to fight back. But he’s weak and useless and pathetic and so fear is what he feels. Fear when he’s locked away in the mausoleum, when Reginald hits him, when he’s forced into situations on missions that his powers can’t help him with. When the ghosts are with him, and when he does what he has to do to keep them away. </p><p>He brings Yawn up to his nose and breathes in the comforting smell of its fur. It’s not a smell he’d ever be able to describe, not even a smell he’d consider good. But it instantly helps him relax and feel calmer.</p><p>When the kettle begins to whistle he leans over to turn off the burner. His hands are steady now as he pours himself a cup of tea. He sits back on the bed, the unicorn propped in his lap, and stares down into his cup. Steam billows up from it, hot and damp as it mists over his face.</p><p>“Do you think anyone would be sad?” he asks Yawn. He turns his wrist over and presses the underside to the hot exterior of the cup. It’s not enough to cause an injury but it stings, it definitely fucking hurts. He holds it there, grimacing at the pain. “Do you suppose it hurts to die?” </p><p>Klaus’ breath hitches and he begins to cry. He puts the cup down on his desk and picks up Yawn, snuggling it close. He doesn’t care if it hurts to die. He’s just so fucking afraid of death, of what will happen to him when he’s on the other side with all the things that have haunted him since he can remember. He wishes he weren’t so scared of it, wishes all those times he was locked in the mausoleum actually served to help him get over it. Then he wouldn’t have to feel so trapped and helpless and desperate all the time. Then he’d be able to escape this house and this life. </p><p>Klaus pulls a bottle of vodka out from his desk drawer and takes a long swig. It’s disgusting and burns his throat and he doesn’t care at all. </p><p>He drops the bottle back in the drawer and wipes at his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. He knows he’d feel better if he finished his tea, but he can’t resist drawing the covers over himself and pulling Yawn in close. With his unicorn tucked under his chin he knows he'll be able to sleep peacefully. Yawn always keeps away the worst of the nightmares.</p><p>He remembers when Grace first gave it to him. He had always coveted his sisters’ plushies, how they got such cute things to play with while Reginald seemed to think model airplanes and dart boards were more appropriate for his sons. When he was ten, he finally decided to poach one of Allison’s teddy bears from her room. </p><p>It was soft and cuddly and he found that when he hugged it tight he wasn't so scared of the ghosts screaming his name. He slept with it every night for a week until the morning Allison realized it was missing. Klaus knew she never ever played with it, and yet Luther nearly broke his arm trying to wrench it away from him. </p><p>That afternoon Grace walked into the downstairs lounge to find Klaus clumsily sewing together scraps of an old undershirt. </p><p>“Klaus, dear, what in the world are you doing?” she had asked, her sweet voice sounding so perplexed by the detritus surrounding him.</p><p>Klaus held up a crudely cut shape for her to see, knowing full well it didn’t look anything like his inspiration. “It’s supposed to be a teddy bear,” he said forlornly. “But I'm not doing a very good job.”</p><p>“I think it’s very nice, especially for your first try,” Grace said pleasantly. “You just need a little practice. Would you like me to teach you to sew?”</p><p>Klaus shook his head. “No thanks, that’s okay. I just wanted to make a teddy bear.” He gathered the bear up, testing how it felt in his arms. As he squeezed it the cotton stuffing went flat against his chest and the fabric drooped over. He frowned.</p><p>“What’s the matter, sweetie?”</p><p>“It’s no good for hugging.”</p><p>She had put her hand gently on his shoulder as she considered him. “Do you want a stuffed animal, Klaus? One that will be very good for hugging?”</p><p>Klaus looked at her with uncertainty, then nodded his head.</p><p>“I’ll have Pogo pick out something very nice and very huggable just for you.” She smiled brightly, ruffling his hair. Then she gently pulled the bear from his arms. “And I would be honored if you let me add your teddy to the memory box I keep for you children.” She looked down at the lump of material in her hands as if it really were something to cherish. “Your first sewing project would be a precious addition indeed.” </p><p>“Thanks, Mom,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I love you.”</p><p>She kissed the top of his head. “You’re such a sweet boy, Klaus. I love you too.”</p><p>Klaus had felt so grateful to have her. He knew then that Mom would always be on his side. </p><p>She had asked him what animal he loved the most in the whole world. He had instantly answered unicorns, though he tacked on an “or, I don’t know—puppies,” in case unicorn plushies were hard to come by.</p><p>The unicorn was on his bed waiting for him that night.</p><p>Klaus didn’t find it until later, because he was locked in the mausoleum.</p><p>He remembers that night as the worst. He had a couple years of experience with the mausoleum at that point, but it was the first time Reginald had used it purely for punishment. </p><p>Usually Reginald came every few hours to assess how he was faring. Now that he was being punished, Dad seemed to have forsaken him completely. </p><p>The ghosts were relentless, brutal. His voice gave out from screaming. His throat burned for water, his stomach ached for food. He had wet his pants in his panic and the cold, clinging fabric caused him to shiver until finally it dried again. Eventually a fear crept into him that Reginald intended to leave him there to die. He had upset Allison and Luther, Dad’s golden children, and finally worn out his welcome in the land of the living.</p><p>Discovering the readiness with which he believed Dad would kill him changed something in his brain. It broke something deep within him.</p><p>It was Grace who finally let him out, levering open the door and mercifully shielding his eyes from the sunshine. Klaus was grateful to her for rescuing him. He was so thankful that he couldn’t stop clinging to her as she helped him back to the house. But it left him no way of knowing Reginald <em>hadn’t</em> intended to let him die. </p><p>Grace bathed him and helped him into fresh clothes. She watched him closely as he ate a bowl of soup. His fingers trembled as he handled the spoon. Grace took his hands in hers and squeezed them, as if all he needed was warming up. Klaus gave her a thin, watery smile to show he appreciated her help. But he couldn’t shake the fear that at any moment Reginald would find him and haul him back to the mausoleum to finish him off.</p><p>Klaus forgot everything the second he saw the unicorn perched on his pillow. It was <em>perfect</em>. Exactly what he had always wanted. He bundled it into his arms and discovered it was absolutely just right for hugging. His heart was so full of love for Grace that it nearly ached.</p><p>Then suddenly the sound of footsteps coming down the hall brought him back to reality. A sick panic filled him, made him tremble and clutch at the unicorn. It didn’t sound like Reginald, but it could have been Luther. Luther, who must have told Dad that Klaus had stolen Allison’s toy from her room. </p><p>Klaus threw himself to the floor and crawled under the bed to hide, just in case Luther was coming to hash it out again. Just in case Luther wanted to take his pretty new unicorn away from him. Or run to Dad to tell him Klaus had come out of the mausoleum. </p><p>He was still huddled under the bed when he fell asleep, exhausted from his sleepless night. Normally being wedged beneath the bed slats would make him feel claustrophobic and simultaneously too exposed to the ghosts. But holding the unicorn tight to his chest helped him feel so much more secure. And he found that the unicorn allowed him to sleep more peacefully than he had in months.</p><p> </p><p>Klaus wakes up feeling much less melodramatic. He stretches his arms out, notices that there’s still a pink spot on his wrist. Apparently the cup <em>was</em> hot enough to burn. But it doesn’t really matter. No one will ask about it.</p><p>He checks the time and realizes he’s missing a biology lesson. If he gets there soon he might be able to avoid being marked tardy. Pogo is unfailingly loyal to their father, Klaus knows, but he has his moments of compassion.</p><p>Lately he’s begun to regard Klaus with a certain softness in his eyes. It’s full of sadness and a pity that makes Klaus’ skin crawl just a little, but he’s noticed that it makes Pogo more lenient with him. It works in his favor in times like this.</p><p>He quickly packs his satchel, knocks back a couple pills, and hurries out of his room.</p><p>There’s no door in the frame that separates the hallway from the classroom. He can see Pogo inside lecturing his brothers and sisters, head bent towards the textbook in his hands. It must be boring material because his siblings are all sitting slumped in their desks. All except Vanya, who Klaus figures is only upright out of politeness.</p><p>He tries to steal noiselessly over the threshold, aiming to slip unnoticed into an open desk. If he makes it then maybe no one will even realize he was late. But the hardwood creaks beneath his feet and gives him away. </p><p>“Master Klaus,” Pogo says, looking up from his lecture notes. He’s as calm as ever, as if Klaus arrived exactly when he expected him.</p><p>“Sorry, Pogo,” Klaus says. He elects not to offer an excuse.</p><p>“Find your seat please.”</p><p>There’s a row of three desks in the front of the room and a row of four desks behind. Now that he’s looking, Klaus finds all the seats occupied except for the middle desk in the front. Of course. He slides into the empty chair and pulls Yawn out of his satchel, holding it in his lap beneath the desk. He hopes no one will notice that he remembered to pack his plushie but forgot to bring his textbook.</p><p>Pogo thumbs through an extra copy of the textbook and places it on his desk, pointing out the paragraph they’re on. “You’re not too far behind,” he tells him, not unkindly. </p><p>Klaus wonders if it’s still obvious that he’d been crying.</p><p>Five is sitting to his left, watching with a smirk. “You <em>know</em> he can’t read, Pogo.”</p><p>An assortment of sniggers sound from the desks behind them. Klaus’ heart sinks. Either they all saw him take out his unicorn, or they’re just that willing to follow after Five when he starts a bit at Klaus’ expense. </p><p>Klaus turns to glare at him. “Shut up, Five,” he hisses. </p><p>Five ignores him, doesn’t even glance at him as he continues. “Do you have any picture books?” he says to Pogo, still smirking at his own joke. “Or know any nursery rhymes? Klaus should really have materials more on his level.”</p><p>“I’m not a baby,” he spits.</p><p>There’s a haughty scoff from the back row. “Then why does Dad keep telling you to grow up?”</p><p>Klaus feels shame begin to burn in his chest. He pulls Yawn in close and closes his eyes. Allison’s right, Dad does tell him that, but he doesn’t <em>understand</em> and neither do they. Mom is the only one who has ever understood that he needs Yawn to feel safe. Then again, maybe that <em>does</em> make him a baby.</p><p>“Shut up, <em>Allison</em>,” Diego says. Klaus can’t see them from where he’s sitting, but he can picture him shooting her a glare. “Can you drop it? I’m trying to learn some science shit here.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare talk to her like that!” Luther’s voice is almost comically full of righteous indignation. “She has a point, and you know it.”</p><p>“Butt out, Luther,” Diego growls.</p><p>Klaus imagines Allison preening self-importantly at Luther’s words. An ego boost that she definitely does not need. Her voice is full of scorn when she says, “since when do you care about <em>science</em>, Diego?”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re just as dumb as Klaus,” Luther adds.</p><p>There’s the sound of something sharp being unsheathed. Klaus knows sometimes it’s easier for Diego to let his knives speak for him.</p><p>“Please,” Five interjects pleadingly, pretending to be scandalized as he turns around to look at them. “Don’t talk about Klaus that way. He’s just a baby!”</p><p>The others laugh, sounding delighted to return to Five’s bit.</p><p>“Stop it, Five,” Klaus says miserably. He knows what Five is doing, trying to direct the attention back to him. They love to fight and snip at each other, but their favorite is to gang up on Klaus.</p><p>Then, “he’s too slutty to be a baby,” Ben counters darkly. </p><p>There’s a pause as everyone turns to look at Ben. </p><p>“Gee, Ben,” Klaus whispers. “Can’t tell if you’re on my side or not here.” </p><p>Ben doesn’t answer. He looks away, as if he’s made his contribution to the discussion and has nothing more to say.</p><p>“That’s true,” Five says, pretending to mull it over. “I guess I haven’t seen a lot of babies sucking dick on the street for pills.” He says it as though he’s conceding the point to Ben, but Klaus knows Five’s only aim is to deliver an even lower blow. </p><p>It lands. He’s not proud of what he’s done for drugs, and he’d rather none of them knew about it. But Dad hadn’t exactly been discreet the time he’d caught Klaus on his knees. He’d dragged him right past his siblings and up to his office, ranting the whole way about the Academy’s reputation and Klaus’ dignity and self-respect. </p><p>Klaus had been so embarrassed that he’d never told them about the cane on his bare back, how it had come down on him again and again and again. </p><p>Klaus takes a deep breath. He tries to focus on the feeling of Yawn’s ears rolling between his fingertips.</p><p>“Thanks, Five,” Allison is saying, in a tone that communicates exactly what she must think of Klaus’ activities. “That mental image is <em>beyond</em> disgusting.”</p><p>“<em>Your</em> mental image is disgusting.”</p><p>“Shut up, Diego.” </p><p>“That is quite enough, all of you,” Pogo interrupts. “Your brother’s reading level is rather advanced for his age. Which is <em>fifteen</em>, the same as all of you.” Pogo’s voice is stern and leaves no room for argument. He’s never been the best at reining them in, but they tend to fall in line once he puts his foot down. </p><p>“Oh, come on, Pogo, Klaus loves it when he gets to be the center of attention.”</p><p>“No more, master Five.”</p><p>Klaus keeps his head down for the remainder of the lesson. He knows Pogo won’t single him out after the little scene Five caused, so he doesn’t bother paying attention. </p><p>He should’ve just kept Yawn in his satchel where no one would see it. But it’s not the same as having it in his lap. And it’s so hard to get through anything anymore without Yawn’s comfort.</p><p>Vanya comes up to him after they’re dismissed from the lesson. It takes Klaus a few seconds to notice her since she doesn’t announce herself. He gives her a small smile and she returns it. </p><p>“You know,” she begins. “They wouldn’t make fun of you like that if you didn’t carry that toy around everywhere.”</p><p>She’s not being cruel, she’s just being honest. Klaus can see in her eyes that she’s only trying to help.</p><p>“I know,” he says. “It’s just… hard.”</p><p>“They’re dicks.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Klaus lets out a choked laugh. “Never heard you swear before, V.”</p><p>“You don’t hear me much at all.” Still not cruel, just honest. Truthful.</p><p>“You should get yourself one of these,” Klaus says, cradling Yawn as if it’s a baby kitten. “Helps a lot.”</p><p>“I think it would help if you grew up a little and weren’t so attached to a toy.”</p><p>Klaus winces.</p><p>“I’m just saying. They think you’re ridiculous.”</p><p>“And what do you think, sis?”</p><p>“I think you’re giving them too much material. Not just with the unicorn. With everything. Dressing like you do, sneaking around and doing who knows what.”</p><p>“You all seem to know what.”</p><p>“Yeah. Wish I didn’t.”</p><p>“I can’t help who I am, Vanya.”</p><p>“But you can help carrying around a toy like a toddler.”</p><p>Klaus shrugs. “I’m not sure I can.”</p><p>Vanya mirrors his shrug. “Suit yourself, I guess.”</p><p>“Good talk, V,” Klaus says drily. He’s already walking away from her. “We should really chat more often.”</p><p> </p><p>When he woke up under his bed, the morning after Mom let him out of the mausoleum, Klaus knew with certainty that his unicorn should be kept a secret. He didn’t want Dad to find out that Mom had given him a gift. Especially not right after he was punished. And besides, what would Reginald say if he saw Klaus with such a girly toy? Would he forbid him from having it?</p><p>Would Reginald be more angry about the fact that he had escaped from the darkness?</p><p>He crawled out from under the bed and looked at the clock. He was missing breakfast, but that was okay. He’d really rather climb into bed and sleep a little more—it had felt so good to hold his unicorn and sleep without nightmares. But he knew that training came soon after breakfast and Reginald would not permit him to miss another session. Not if he wasn’t locked away anymore. So the next best thing was to take a bath. </p><p>He looked down at the unicorn clutched in his hand. He wanted nothing more than to take it into the bathroom with him, let it watch over him from the windowsill, but he was just as wary of his siblings finding out about the gift. He had visions of Luther ripping it to pieces with his super strength—revenge for Allison’s pilfered teddy bear. Or Diego laughing and sticking it full of knives. Five taking it on jumps through space until it came to a place where Klaus would never be able to find it again. </p><p>Not that they meant to be mean on purpose—at least, not Diego—but they wouldn’t understand that it wasn’t just a toy. Klaus tucked the unicorn carefully beneath his pillow so that it was hidden from sight. Then he tiptoed across the hall to the bathroom.</p><p>He had been sitting in the bathtub for all of five minutes when the tears began to fall. Slowly at first and then more quickly as memories flooded back to him of his night in the cold, dark place. It wasn’t just the wailing of the dead that haunted him. It was the all-consuming fear that this time he had been utterly abandoned. It was the ache that had settled in his heart with the conviction that his life didn’t matter to his father.</p><p>Klaus pressed his hands over his eyes as sobs racked his little body. He didn’t know if he could face Reginald yet. He didn’t know if he could pretend to his siblings that nothing had happened to him. </p><p>He cried until his tears ran out and he sat hiccuping in the cold water. </p><p>By the time he levered himself out of the tub and dripped back to his bedroom, he was late for training. He threw on his green track suit and rushed down to the gymnasium.</p><p>He stopped when he reached the double doors, suddenly paralyzed with dread. He considered backing out and going back to his room, but then he imagined Reginald’s anger if he skipped the training session altogether. Klaus took a deep steadying breath and opened the door.</p><p>Reginald was standing at the front of the room with Vanya by his side, a whistle around her neck and Reginald’s notebook in her arms. His other siblings were sitting cross-legged around a large mat that had been laid out on the floor. Ben saw Klaus peeking in and surreptitiously waved him over. </p><p>Klaus crept inside, his eyes watching Reginald nervously. Thankfully Reginald seemed to be ignoring Klaus as he lectured the others on the usefulness of takedowns and throws. Klaus sank to the floor beside Ben, giving him what he hoped was a friendly smile.</p><p>Ben whispered from the side of his mouth, “you weren’t at breakfast this morning.”</p><p>“I decided to sleep in,” Klaus whispered back.</p><p>Ben nodded seriously. “How are you feeling? Mom said you were sick yesterday.”</p><p>“Oh… better now, I guess. Glad that I’m not… all cooped up anymore.”</p><p>“That’s good.” </p><p>“Number Four!” Reginald barked, making Klaus jump. “Now is not the time to visit with Six. Unlike you he has made an effort to attend training, and I will not have you hamper his efforts. His skills in hand to hand combat are weak enough already.”</p><p>Klaus ducked his head, wincing at the way his stomach dropped. His eyes slid over towards Ben, who flashed him a reproachful look before pointedly turning away. Klaus wanted to say something to reassure him, to let Ben know he thought he was a great fighter, but the words stuck in his throat. He knew better than to be caught talking again. And anyways, he wasn’t sure Ben wanted to hear it.</p><p>Instead he watched as Reginald called Allison and Diego onto the mat. The two smiled at each other and bumped fists before Allison took a step, grabbed onto Diego, and levered him over her hip. He hit the mat with a <em>thwack</em> and Allison immediately put out her hand to help him back up. </p><p>Diego took it, grinning up at her, and let her pull him back to his feet. Once he was upright he pivoted his body smoothly and slung Allison down by the wrist. She laughed as she fell to the mat, then allowed Diego to help her up again. They bumped fists again and turned back towards Reginald. </p><p>Klaus figured the whole thing had only taken a minute. He had always admired the ease with which they worked together. </p><p>“Adequate, both of you,” Reginald decreed. “Though rather lazy.” He paused to scribble in his notebook. “I dare say you would progress more quickly were you to treat each other as adversaries.”</p><p>Klaus watched as they exchanged looks—Allison’s eyebrows raised a hair, the corner of Diego’s mouth turned up. Klaus tended to agree, it was hard to imagine them as enemies.</p><p>Reginald’s scowl deepened as he looked between them. “I do not need to remind you,” he said darkly, “that you will not find your opponents quite so cheerful or as friendly outside of the Academy. Sit down, Two and Three.”</p><p>Reginald called Luther and Five next. This time there was more of a skirmish, with Five disappearing from Luther’s grip in flashes of blue energy, and Luther refusing to be moved as Five tried to take him down. Eventually they both managed a throw, and begrudgingly bumped each other’s fists as they turned towards Reginald. </p><p>Reginald’s gaze remained steely but he seemed to approve of their efforts. He nodded and dismissed them, then called Klaus and Ben.</p><p>Klaus stepped onto the mat and met Ben’s eyes with the friendliest look he could muster. He knew Ben could be sensitive, but he didn’t usually hold grudges. Klaus hoped he wasn’t still feeling tender from earlier. </p><p>He was relieved when Ben reluctantly smiled back and returned his fist bump. </p><p>Then Ben grabbed him, rolled him over his hip, and lowered him very carefully towards the mat. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I hope I’m not making you feel sick again.”</p><p>“No, I’m okay,” Klaus said, letting Ben pull him back onto his feet. “Thanks, though.”</p><p>Klaus returned the favor by throwing him just as gently, performing the technique practically in slow motion so that he could ease Ben down onto his back. </p><p>He helped Ben back up and bumped his fist, then they both turned towards Reginald. </p><p>Klaus' blood ran cold when he saw the way Reginald was scowling at them. He knew Dad wouldn’t like that they’d gone easy on each other, but he hadn’t expected Reginald to look so furious. So much like the way he’d looked when he’d grabbed Klaus’ arm and told him he would be punished for stealing from his sister.</p><p>Klaus brought his arm to his chest, remembering the way he’d screamed when he realized where Reginald was taking him. The way Reginald had responded by gripping him tighter and dragging him bodily through the grass.</p><p>If it happened again, Klaus thought suddenly, desperately, he could try to kill himself before they reached the mausoleum. That would at least be better than a slow death trapped in the dark.</p><p>Finally Reginald spoke. “You continue to disappoint me, Four and Six,” he said, his voice baleful and cold. “Sit.”</p><p>Ben glanced at him then, and Klaus saw in the twist of his lips that he regretted his choice to be gentle to Klaus. It should have made Klaus feel sad, guilty maybe, but he felt something sour and resentful bubble up instead. He knew that no matter how much Ben was scolded, or how much his combat skills were lacking, his power would always be too useful to allow Reginald to discount him entirely. He wasn’t dispensable. He didn’t know how lucky he was.</p><p>Klaus sank to the floor on the edge of the mat. He didn’t look at Ben and he sensed that Ben didn’t want him to.</p><p>Allison and Five were paired next, then Reginald called Klaus and Diego. </p><p>Klaus clambered up, still feeling grim and shaken, though he tried to return the broad smile Diego was giving him.</p><p>“Missed you, bro,” Diego said, putting his fist out. </p><p>Klaus returned it. “Oh, well, I don’t think I can say the same.” He tried smiling again and found it came a little more easily. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”</p><p>Diego laughed. “Okay, whatever.” Then he took Klaus’ arm and turned backwards towards him so that Klaus’ chest was pulled against Diego’s back. He dropped down and pitched forward, sending Klaus reeling over his shoulder. </p><p>Klaus hit the mat with a yelp. He raised his hand for Diego to take, but Diego pounced on him instead, straddling his waist and pulling him into a hold. “Not so fast,” he smirked. “You missed yesterday, so I never got a chance to get you into one of <em>these</em> babies.”</p><p>Klaus felt a rush of dread at the feeling of being immobilized, trapped. But Diego was just playing, he knew that, so he tried to will the fear away. He let out a giggle and made a show of trying to struggle. “Amazing, Diego, truly stunning natural talent,” he deadpanned. “Now let me up so I can throw you back, dick.”</p><p>Diego removed one of his hands. Klaus thought he was being released until the hand clamped tightly over his eyes. Suddenly everything went black and a mind-numbing terror washed over him. Through it he heard Diego’s voice sing out, “not ‘til you say ‘Diego’s the best brother ever!’” </p><p>Klaus knew he was teasing, could hear the smugness in his voice, but he couldn’t make himself answer. He couldn’t even breathe. The darkness surrounding him became thick and oppressive until he was freezing cold and certain that he was going to die.</p><p>“No, no,” he choked out. He began shaking violently, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. “No, please! Let me out!” The ghosts were too close, crowding in from every direction—screaming, wailing, keening in the pitch. “Please, please,” he sobbed. He’d been here for hours, trapped, imprisoned, and he knew he would never ever be free again. He would die and then there would be no barrier between himself and the horror of the spirits. “Let me out,” he gasped. “Please. Please don’t leave me here.”</p><p>Light flooded in suddenly and Klaus felt himself being pulled into a sitting position. He blinked, unseeing, and continued to tremble.</p><p>“Breathe, Klaus, breathe,” he heard someone say.</p><p>Klaus reached out instinctively, latched onto the arms that were holding him up. He pulled in a ragged breath.</p><p>“I-I-I-I’m s-sorry I-I-I scared you. Are you o-okay?”</p><p>“Number Four is fine. Get up, Four, you disgraceful thing.”</p><p>“What happened to him, Dad?”</p><p>“Not a thing. It seems your brother thought dramatics were preferable to demonstrating a proper release from a hold.”</p><p>“That’s pretty cheap, Klaus.”</p><p>“I-I-I don’t think so. He—he was really scared.”</p><p>“Then he’s fooled you, Number Two. I would have thought you were better than that.”</p><p>“He didn’t fool <em>me</em>, Dad!”</p><p>“Shut up, Luther.”</p><p>“Can you hear m-me, Klaus?”</p><p>Klaus nodded weakly, still feeling dazed. He let himself slump against Diego. He could breathe again now, though he couldn’t stop himself from shaking.</p><p>“Everything’s okay, Klaus,” Diego said. “I won’t ever do that again.”</p><p>“You will not mollycoddle him, Number Two!” Reginald barked. “He must learn to rise to the occasion or he will never progress as a member of the team. Right now you are teaching him that his attempts to seek attention will be humored.” Reginald stepped forward onto the mat. “Get <em>up</em>, Number Four.”</p><p>He reached out and seized Klaus by the collar, yanking him up. Klaus screamed and flinched away so hard that Reginald dropped him. </p><p>Klaus scrambled out of arm’s reach and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m up!” he gasped, wild and desperate, not daring to look Reginald in the eye. “I got up.”</p><p>“Good,” Reginald said, sounding strained. “That’s enough for today. Go and get cleaned up before your studies with Pogo this afternoon.”</p><p>“That’s it?” Luther whined. “I didn’t get to go again.”</p><p>“Klaus didn’t even have to throw Diego!”</p><p>“It’s not fair!”</p><p>“Silence!”</p><p>Klaus’s heart was pounding at the anger in Reginald’s voice. He started to take small steps backwards, creating more space between them. Not that it would save him if Dad thought he should be punished. The idea made Klaus tremble. </p><p>“We will resume tomorrow! For now you are all dismissed.”</p><p>Klaus turned and ran. He didn’t stop running until he was back under the covers with his unicorn in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Klaus pushes open the attic window and sits down heavily on the sill. He looks out over the city, all the people he and his siblings have been raised to protect. He hopes they feel secure in their knowledge that the Academy is there to protect them. It’s only cost Klaus his ability to function normally on most days. Then again, he wouldn’t expect any of those people to care how it’s affected him. His own family certainly doesn’t. </p><p>He’s just being bitter and self-centered, he knows. None of his brothers and sisters have had it easy either. But Reginald treats them differently, like they’re not a disappointment, not an affront to everything he’s worked for. </p><p>He wonders, not for the first time, if there’s anyone out there who would care how he’s been treated. Probably not, he always concludes. He’s deserved every single thing that’s been done to him.</p><p>Klaus reaches down towards the pile of clothes he left on the floorboards. He pulls a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his blazer. He lights one and leaves it to hang from his lips. </p><p>Vanya’s words drift back to him as he sits blowing smoke into the night air. He remembers her insistence that his siblings would be better to him if he weren't so dependent on his unicorn, if he didn’t make himself such an easy target.</p><p>Just thinking about Yawn makes him long to cradle it in his arms. He wants to hold the comforting smell of it in his nose, instead of the hot sting of cigarette smoke. He wants to snuggle it close and let it make him feel okay again.</p><p>Klaus leaves Yawn where it is, hidden beneath the heap of his discarded shorts. Instead he takes the cigarette out of his mouth and presses it to his thigh, just below the hem of his dress. He hisses as he clenches his teeth against the pain. The cigarette smolders and goes out, and Klaus looks beneath it at the red dot on his skin. </p><p>He lights the cigarette again and gives himself another burn to match the first one.</p><p>This is what he’d be doing if he didn’t have Yawn, he thinks. This would be the only way he’d be able to comfort himself.</p><p>Apart from the drugs. He supposes that without Yawn he’d probably just have an even worse drug habit. Probably so bad that it’d kill him without him even meaning for it to happen. An overdose, or some other sort of accident. Or maybe he could get so high that he wasn’t afraid of dying anymore. Just the thought of it makes Klaus’ stomach twist with dread. But then again, it must be easier to go that way.</p><p>If he decided to do it, he’d want to be numb to the fear. </p><p>The lighter clicks, his skin sizzles. Another round little burn. And another.</p><p>Everyone would be happy not to have to deal with him anymore. The Academy would become a better team. Dad would be able to focus on training the others. Mom’s a robot, Klaus knows. She would mourn him only if she’d been programmed to. </p><p>He deserves to be wholly among the things that have always haunted him.</p><p>It would benefit everyone.</p><p>Klaus fumbles with the lighter again. He jams the cigarette into his leg, holds it there as bitter tears begin to spill down his cheeks.</p><p>He’s worth nothing compared to his brothers and sisters. That’s why no one cares how much he’s hurting. Or being hurt.</p><p>Klaus drops the lighter onto the floor and begins to cry.</p><p>What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he just be like the others? Why can’t he be normal, <em>worthy</em>, like them?</p><p>He leans down to rifle through the pile of his clothes, finds Yawn, snatches it up. He strokes his fingers over the mane, twists them around the tail. Presses it to his face so he can feel its soft fur against his cheek. </p><p>He lets out a low, deep sigh.</p><p>And then in place of the crushing sadness Klaus feels self-loathing and bitter disappointment well up. He <em>needs</em> Yawn. No matter how much he hates himself for it. Even if it means they make fun of him. Nothing else helps him feel okay.</p><p>“Klaus?”</p><p>Klaus startles at the voice and nearly topples from the windowsill.</p><p>Something wedges into the wall beneath him. Klaus looks down and finds a knife planted there, pinning the hem of his dress to the wall. He looks back up at Diego, his eyes still hazy with tears. “What the fuck? You ruined my dress!”</p><p>“I thought you were gonna fall out the window!”</p><p>Klaus reaches down and yanks the knife out of the wall. “This wouldn’t have done anything. The fabric would’ve just ripped.”</p><p>Diego crosses the attic and takes the knife from Klaus. “I’m sorry,” he says, eyeing the tear in the fabric. Klaus thinks he looks awkward enough to mean it. </p><p>“It’s okay. I can fix it.”</p><p>“I heard you crying.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“I told them to stop being so mean to you.”</p><p>“I wasn’t—” Klaus bristles, and then deflates. “Thanks,” he says instead. “That was nice of you.”</p><p>“You weren’t what?”</p><p>“Crying because of them.” Klaus means for it to save him some face, to keep himself from looking so pathetic. But once he says it he wishes he hadn’t admitted to crying at all.</p><p>He knows he shouldn’t have said it when he sees the look on Diego’s face. It’s the look Mom gets when he shows up drunk to breakfast, when he takes peas from her freezer to ice his bruised face. It looks weird and wrong on Diego. “Why were you crying then?” he asks.</p><p>Klaus shrugs. He waves a hand in the air, as if to vaguely indicate <em>everything</em>, then lets it flop down into his lap.</p><p>Diego’s eyes track the movement of his hand before settling on his leg. “What are those?” he asks, pointing to the cigarette burns.</p><p>Klaus thinks that the specks of black ash in the wounds and the lingering smell of smoke in the air should make it obvious. He raises a shoulder in a shrug.</p><p>Diego picks up the lighter and the pack of cigarettes from the floor, looking at them as if he’s starting to put it together. “W-w—” He swallows. “Why are you hurting yourself?”</p><p>Klaus shrugs again. It seems to be the only response he can muster. He turns away from Diego, looks back out over the city.</p><p>“I know Dad hits you.”</p><p>Klaus takes a breath. “Everybody knows that.”</p><p>“I know it’s not right.”</p><p>Klaus looks up at him. </p><p>“People get arrested for doing that kind of stuff, out there.” Diego gestures in a general way to the city around them. “They’re not allowed to hurt their kids.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.” He’s not out there; he’s in here, and there’s no one here who can protect him. He brings Yawn up to his chin, lets the fur of its mane brush his nose. He doesn’t know why—if it’s Diego being here, if it’s talking about it out loud—but all of a sudden tears are rolling down his cheeks again.</p><p>“Hey, hey,” Diego says softly, stepping towards him. “Come down from the window.” He reaches out for Klaus, and Klaus lets himself be guided back into the attic. They sit down together, with their backs against the wall, and Diego puts an arm around him. “Your unicorn helps you feel better, right?”</p><p>Klaus nods, sniffling, and nervously turns Yawn over in his hands. “I know it’s stupid.”</p><p>“No, it’s not. I’m glad you have something that helps.”</p><p>“Vanya said it makes it worse. Because everyone makes fun of me for it.”</p><p>“They’d act that way no matter what, Klaus.”</p><p>Klaus runs his fingers over the unicorn’s back. “I guess so.”</p><p>“Do you have a name for it?”</p><p>Klaus feels his cheeks heat. “I call it Yawn,” he says.</p><p>“Yawn seems like a good pal.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Diego considers him for a moment. Klaus has no idea what he must see on his tear-stained face. Then he reaches out for one of Yawn’s pink hooves. “Hi, Klaus,” Diego says, waving Yawn’s arm at him. </p><p>A laugh bubbles up from Klaus’ throat. “Oh my god,” he says. “You’re so corny.” </p><p>Diego continues on in a high-pitched voice, “I think you mean <em>horny</em>!” He moves the unicorn’s arms so that its hooves gesture at its forehead.</p><p>Klaus tries to be annoyed but he can’t help the smile spreading on his face. “Diego, I’m going to set Yawn on fire if you don’t stop.”</p><p>“But Yawn <em>loves</em> Klaus!”</p><p>Klaus laughs. “Christ, okay, where’s my lighter?”</p><p>“I have it, remember?”</p><p>“Well, give it back.”</p><p>Diego’s not smiling anymore. “No,” he says.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Smoking’s bad for you.” He’s looking at the burns on Klaus’ leg as he says it.</p><p>“At least give me my cigarettes. Those are expensive.”</p><p>“Did you not hear what I just said?”</p><p>“Fine.” Klaus throws his hands up. “I have a hot plate in my room.”</p><p>Diego blanches. “Klaus.”</p><p>Klaus would’ve thought he’d appreciate it, the fact that Diego actually seems to care, but it just makes him feel self-conscious and ashamed. He knows Diego’s judging him, that he thinks Klaus is weak for coping like he does. “This has been great and all,” Klaus says decisively, “a real treat to catch up with you, but I’m going back to my room now.” He gets to his feet and yanks the dress off over his head, pulls on his shorts. </p><p>“Klaus, wait.” Diego puts his hand out. His face falls when Klaus moves out of reach. “I just want to help. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”</p><p>“What can you do to keep me from getting hurt?”</p><p>“I don’t know!”</p><p>Klaus pulls his shirt on and begins to do up the buttons. “Then it doesn’t matter what you want, does it?”</p><p>“If you would talk to me then maybe I could figure something out.”</p><p>“I’ve <em>tried</em>, Diego! I’ve tried talking about it but no one listens to me! None of you care what I’m going through. I’m done with it now.”</p><p>Diego furrows his brow like he’s confused, like it’s news to him, and Klaus feels his hackles raising. A retort sits ready behind his teeth in case Diego wants to argue the point. But all Diego says is, “well, I’m listening now, Klaus. So talk to me.”</p><p>All the anger leaches out of him then, leaving him feeling exhausted and fragile. He stops buttoning his shirt and reaches for Yawn instead. “I’m just—scared. All the time,” he admits. “I’m scared of ghosts. I’m scared of Dad. Ever since that time he locked me up, after I stole Allison’s teddy bear—I <em>still</em> don’t know if he was trying to kill me—”</p><p>“Kill you—what?”</p><p>Klaus’ hands tighten on Yawn. He hasn’t thought about it in years. The memory has turned murky in his mind, vague and unclear. But thinking about it now, remembering that time, he feels the panic and terror rushing back to him. “He-he… he <em>left</em> me. Locked up in the dark with the ghosts. I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t protect myself.” Tears begin to well up, hot and itchy in his swollen eyes. He’s never talked about this before, never told anyone about that night. “It felt like forever,” he cries. “Mom finally saved me.”</p><p>Diego’s jaw is clenched tight, his eyes steely as he looks at him. “I didn’t know, Klaus. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“I used to think he was trying to keep me in there until I died.”</p><p>“When was this?”</p><p>“I think, like, five years ago.”</p><p>“Is that why you—that time we were sparring… I covered your eyes and you just freaked out?”</p><p>Klaus nods miserably.</p><p>“You were different after that. You started carrying around your unicorn all the time.”</p><p>“I was so scared of him.”</p><p>“Has he done anything like that since?”</p><p>Klaus shakes his head. “Not like it was that time.”</p><p>“He must’ve… gotten called away on business or something. I mean, Dad sucks but I don’t think he would kill you.”</p><p>“I was only ten. I couldn’t think it through like that.”</p><p>“I know. ”</p><p>Klaus wipes delicately at his eyes. “Anyways,” he says weakly. “I just—I have a hard time sometimes.”</p><p>Diego reaches out and pulls him into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should’ve checked on you. I should’ve asked what was going on.” His arms wrap tightly around Klaus’ back. “The drugs and the drinking and stuff, we all acted like you were just doing it for the hell of it. We should’ve known something was wrong.” </p><p>Klaus lets himself melt against Diego, dropping his head down to rest on Diego’s shoulder. Maybe he should still be embarrassed, angry even, but being hugged like this he just feels <em>safe</em>. It’s a good feeling, one he hasn’t experienced nearly enough. “Diego,” he says after a minute. “Is there something wrong with me?”</p><p>Diego pulls back and looks at him. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You know,” Klaus says. It seems like too much to say it out loud, to name all his shameful inadequacies. “I’m just… different. I’m not like the rest of you. Is that why Dad doesn’t like me?”</p><p>Diego’s eyes narrow. “If Dad doesn’t like you it’s because he hates that he can’t stop you from being yourself.”</p><p>Klaus frowns. “I’m not trying to make him mad.”</p><p>“He’s a miserable bastard,” Diego says, softening a little. “He’s always gonna be mad about something.”</p><p>“Is it okay that I like girl things?”</p><p>“You can like whatever you want.”</p><p>“And that I carry around a unicorn all the time?”</p><p>“You want to feel safe. I get it. You’ve been through a lot.”</p><p>Klaus nods. He yawns, suddenly feeling tired again, and rubs his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmurs.</p><p>“Let’s go hang out in your room,” Diego says. He starts picking up the rest of Klaus’ things from the floor. “It smells weird in here.”</p><p>Klaus gives a small laugh and nods. “Okay.”</p><p>They trudge down the stairs and along the corridor to Klaus’ room. No one passes them on the way, but Klaus is grateful all the same that Diego thought to wrap his dress up in his blazer.</p><p>Klaus opens his bedroom door and waves Diego in with a flourish. “You want some tea?” he asks.</p><p>“I’m good,” Diego says. “Thanks though.”</p><p>Klaus wonders if Diego’s still thinking about what he said about the hot plate.</p><p>Diego dumps Klaus’ clothes onto the floor, near enough to an existing pile of dirty laundry, and sits down on the bed. He pulls the lighter and cigarettes out of his pocket and holds them up for Klaus to see. “Don’t do this shit anymore, okay?” he says. He leans over to set them down on Klaus’ desk. “Come talk to me when you feel bad. Bring Yawn. We’ll help you feel better.”</p><p>“Okay,” Klaus says. In spite of himself he finds that he actually believes Diego, believes that he can go to him if he needs help. The realization spreads a feeling of warmth within him. </p><p>“Do you want me to bandage that for you?”</p><p>He looks down at his leg, where the burns are hidden by his shorts, and shakes his head. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ve had worse.”</p><p>“I’m gonna protect you, Klaus,” Diego says, his voice fierce with determination. “I’ll stand up to Dad, even if he hits me too.”</p><p>Klaus frowns. “I don’t want you to do that, Diego.”</p><p>“I’m your brother,” Diego says, as if that settles it. As if Klaus’ other brothers would do the same. Klaus knows they wouldn’t. Diego moves back on the bed and lays down with his arms crossed behind his head. “We can leave in a few years anyways. That’s what normal kids do, out there. We can rent an apartment and get shitty jobs. Stay up all night eating pizza.”</p><p>Klaus lets out an airy laugh. It’s a nice thought. He’s not sure such a normal existence is within the realm of possibility for him, but he doesn’t say anything. He just heaves a yawn and lays down on the bed beside Diego. “That would be cool.”</p><p>“I won’t let the others be mean to you either,” Diego says.</p><p>“You’re being really nice to me,” Klaus says. He turns onto his side so that his back is to Diego. “Thank you.”</p><p>Diego doesn’t say anything, and Klaus wonders if he jinxed it by mentioning it aloud. But then he feels Diego’s fingers begin to gently card through his hair, just like Mom used to do when he was little. </p><p>Klaus lets himself relax into the touch as his eyes close. Maybe Diego will be able to protect him, he thinks. Maybe he won’t. But he feels pretty sure that Diego will try, that he’s going to be there for Klaus if he needs him. And that’s enough for him. He lets out another yawn and pulls a blanket up over himself. He feels Diego take a corner of the blanket so that it covers both of them.</p><p>“Do you want Yawn?” Diego asks. “I left it on the floor with your clothes. I can go get it.”</p><p>“No, that’s okay. Unless you’re going back to your room?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m comfy here. Kinda wanna take a nap.”</p><p>“Then don’t get up,” Klaus says. His eyelids are beginning to flutter again. Diego feels warm and solid tucked in behind him. Keeping him safe, Klaus thinks, at least for now. He feels pretty certain that he isn’t going to wake up screaming. And if he does, Diego will be there. He knows Diego will understand. And he’ll try to help him feel better. Klaus smiles and closes his eyes.</p>
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